Zachary, my son in a dog suit

It was the second summer after High School graduation and me and my two best friends had rented a house on the river in Santa Cruz. About two months passed and we started to notice that things were missing, nothing big at first, but then the rent jar started coming up short. We all denied taking the money, but it started a cycle of mistrust amongst us all. One morning we all went surfing and didn't return until sunset.

I had left my dog, Zack, an American Staffordshire terrier of 3 years and about 135 lbs at home, since no dogs were allowed on the beach. Upon returning, we noticed that the front door was open. Right away, I started calling for Zack, thinking that he had escaped and was running around the neighborhood. After about ten minutes of calling for Zack with no luck, we unloaded our stuff from the car went inside the house.

When I walked in and flipped on the light, there was Zack sitting two feet away from a man standing in a large puddle of urine, backed into the corner of our living room. As it turned out, Zack had surprised the self-confessed burglar in the act of robbing our house ten minutes after we had left that morning. As the Deputies led the handcuffed man away, we heard him saying how the dog had come up on him and calmly sat down, but that everytime he tried to move he'd stand up and growl at him.

"I've never been so scared in my life." said the burglar, "I thought that big SOB was going to eat me." In the 14 years we spent together Zack never harmed a living soul. He was truly the Goodwill Ambassador of his breed.

'ZACHARY'
1982-1996
'MY SON IN A DOG SUIT'

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